Khârn looked with hatred at the heap of fat prattling away before him. They were the true cancer of this planet.
The nobles led by the High Riders controlled the lost dark technologies. They wielded the strongest military power on the planet and oppressed their own people with utmost cruelty.
A civilized society had regressed into a slave-owning one through the long night.
And to pacify the people, they had built arena after arena, using the brutal, intoxicating bloodshed within to divert the people's attention.
Ordinary people could only watch the nobles live in luxury and decadence, watch an entire class hang over their heads, then find comfort in seeing those even less fortunate slaughter one another.
A person's sense of satisfaction came from disparity and comparison. So long as there were others more miserable than them, the spark of rebellion found no ground in which to spread.
"You're too long-winded."
Khârn did not hesitate. The silver silk wrapped around his hand tore apart the High Rider's concealed force-field shield, driving those vicious implants into the High Rider's brain.
Then he raised the mangled corpse over his head and tore it apart with a violent wrench. His knotted muscles unleashed terrifying strength. Blood and organs came pouring down, and far more blood and fat than any ordinary human possessed carpeted the stands. Khârn stood amid the blood.
"Use this place as the center. Kill every one of these hateful vermin."
Desh'ea, Nuceria's capital, was burning. Eighteen thousand fully armed World Eaters were enough to destroy the armies of an entire star system, and these slave masters, lost in drunken dreams, were utterly incapable of resisting the World Eaters' slaughter.
Once the High Riders realized negotiations were impossible, they finally erupted with astonishing resistance.
The forces they gathered fought the World